Mirror Image
by Esm3rald
Summary: After sacrificing herself to kill Voldemort, Hayden wakes up in a limbo, in front of a mirror. When she touches its surface, she appears in a different world as Hayden Summers - the Slayer's twin sister - immediately after Buffy dies for a minute at the hands of the Master when she's called as a Slayer. With two Slayers as sisters, how will the story change? And what about Spike?


**I CHANGED THE STORY SLIGHTLY BECAUSE I WAS NOT VERY HAPPY WITH THE DIRECTION I WANTED TO TAKE THIS STORY AT FIRST AND, TRUTH TO BE TOLD, I DIDN'T CARE ABOUT WRITING SEASON1 BECAUSE THERE'S NO SPIKE IN IT. HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY!**

**This is my new story, it's a HP/BtVS crossover. In this story Harry Potter is a she, meaning she's Hayden Potter, the girl-who-lived, not Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. This story will follow the seasons of Buffy from season2 to season7, though a lot of things will be different from Canon because of Hayden's presence in the story.**

**Summary:** "It wasn't exactly her reflection that she was seeing in front of her eyes. Yes, the girl she could see in the mirror looked a lot like her but she was younger, healthier and more beautiful that she could ever hoped to be." Hayden Potter sacrifices herself to see Voldemort dead and to save the Wizarding World. She wakes up in a limbo and in front of a mirror. When she touches its surface, she appears in a different world as Hayden Summers - the Slayer's twin sister - immediately after Buffy dies for a minute at the hands of the Master. Hayden is called as the Slayer after her sister's momentary death and because of these unusual circumstances there are now two Active Slayers instead of one. Hayden wakes up with memories of a life she has never lived and with a destiny that she didn't want nor seek. Why is she in this new world, once again with the weight of the world upon her shoulders?

**Most part of this chapter is taken directly from chapter 33-34-35 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.**

**I changed slightly the time setting of HP. Hayden is born in 1979 instead of 1980. She began Hogwarts in 1990.**

**This means that she became 18 in 1997, the year when the story begins. The other dates are changed accordingly.**

**Main Pairing**: Spike/Hayden.

**BTW, I imagine Hayden as Phoebe Tonkin but with green eyes instead of hazel. Oh, and NO Kendra or Faith in this story.**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I just like to write stories about these characters. I do not make any money by writing this story.

**Prologue**

_Scotland, May 1997_

…_Tell her that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill her, a fragment of Voldemort's soul latched itself onto the only living soul left in that collapsed building…_

…_Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Hayden…_

…_While that fragment of soul remains attached to and protected by Hayden, Lord Voldemort cannot die…_

…_the girl must die..._

…_And Voldemort himself must do it…_

…_The only way for him to die is if she embraces death herself…_

…_Voldemort must kill her for him to die too…_

…_Their lives are so tightly bounded together that if she dies, he will die also…_

…_You have kept her alive so that she can die at the right moment?..._

Hayden understood at last that she was not supposed to survive. Her job was to walk calmly into Death's welcoming arms. Along the way, she was to dispose of Voldemort's remaining links to life, so that when at last she flung himself across Voldemort's path, and did not raise a wand to defend herself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric's Hollow would be finished. Neither would live, neither could survive.

Dumbledore's betrayal was almost nothing. Of course there had been a bigger plan: Hayden had simply been too foolish to see it, she realized that now. She had never questioned her own assumption that Dumbledore wanted her alive. Now she saw that her life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to her, and obediently she had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but herself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the girl who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not be a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort.

And Dumbledore had known that Hayden would not duck out, that she would keep going to the end, even though it was her end, because he had taken the trouble to get to know her, hadn't he? Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Hayden would not let anyone else die for her now that she had discovered it was in her power to stop it.

It was because of this that she was there now. In front of Lord Voldemort, surrounded by Death Eaters, deep inside the Forbidden Forest. Ready to die just to see him dead too.

Hayden could feel Voldemort's wand against her chest, but she made no attempt to draw hers. And still, Voldemort and Hayden looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the girl standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Hayden Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The-Girl-Who-Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting: Everything was waiting.

At last Voldemort raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Hayden looked back into his red eyes and smiled.

She saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

A second or a hundred years later, she found herself laying facedown, listening to the silence. She was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. She was not perfectly sure that she was there herself.

A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to her that she must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because she was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore she had a sense of touch, and the thing against which she lay existed too.

Almost as soon as she had reached this conclusion, Hayden became conscious that she was naked. Convinced as she was of her total solitude, this did not concern her, but it did intrigue her slightly. She wondered whether, as she could feel, she would be able to see. In opening them, she discovered that she had eyes.

She lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist she had ever experienced before. Her surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapour; rather the cloudy vapour had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which she lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be.

She sat up. Her body appeared unscathed. She touched her face. She was still wearing her glasses.

She stood up, looking around. The longer she looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above her in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still.

Hayden turned slowly on the spot, and her surroundings seemed to invent themselves before her eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. She was the only person there.

Suddenly, from nowhere, mist appeared before her, slowly taking the form of a mirror. She closed the short distance to it and looked at her reflection. Except that it wasn't exactly her reflection that she was seeing in front of her eyes. Yes, the girl she could see in the mirror looked a lot like her but she was younger, healthier and more beautiful that she could ever hoped to be. The skin of the girl in the mirror was not sickly pale but slightly tanned and perfect, not one single old scar marred her unblemished skin. Her green eyes were bright and full of life and not hidden by glasses. Her hair was long and cascading in gentle waves down her shoulders and back. There was no lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead. She was lean and toned but with soft curves in all the right places. It was perfectly clear that this girl in front of her had not seen abused or neglect. This version of her was how she could have been if she had lived not with the Dursleys but in a real home, with a real family.

She suddenly realized how much Voldemort and Dumbledore both had taken away from her. She had been an innocent caught up in a war between two very powerful wizards, just a pawn in their game.

And now she was dead. Never to live again, or really – live for the first time – because, truthfully she had not lived at all. Everything was over. For her at least. And no matter how much she tried to convince herself that Voldemort had died with her and the Wizarding World was finally free, she could not help but think of how much she had truly lost.

She wanted a second chance at life. She wanted to live again, have a family, find love, be happy, just like every other person, was that too much to ask?

She looked at the reflection once again, noticing the happy sparkle in the eyes of the girl before her and sighed. She wanted to have the life of the happy, healthy girl in front of her. In a sudden decision, she touched the mirror with her entire palm, almost hoping to merge herself with the image reflected before her.

And then she was falling, down, down, in a deep black abyss and she knew no more.


End file.
